The Silver Flicker
by Gear001
Summary: Tie-in with "Tomorrow Will Be Kinder" by MegaWalrus99. Leaving is hard but necessary to avoid painful memories. Setting out for Beacon, a Huntsman in training begins his journey anew inside the hold of a lonely cargo ship bound for Veil. Goodbyes need only so many words. CHAPTER 2 UPDATED
1. The First Glint

_Author's Forward: Hi there! It's been a while since I've actually posted here on , but I've recently become infatuated with RWBY. So, upon learning about MegaWalrus99's Submit Your Own Character contest, I decided to whip up my own candidate. He's accepted my creation into his domain, but I felt at least a little introduction to him would help a few people understand his character more clearly. So I wrote this in the span of an afternoon to provide that extra insight. I hope you enjoy it._

_As a side note, if there is a point in MegaWalrus99's story ("Tomorrow Will Be Kinder") that needs a little more introspection from my character, I'll write a companion chapter to accompany it._

* * *

The Silver Flicker

"Are you sure I can't convince you to stick around?"

The question was perplexing to him. Not because it was unreasonable, it wasn't in the slightest. No, it was more his own internal reaction to the question. A shudder broke through his bones at the thought of being tied down on _The Trodden_ any longer than was necessary. Too many bad memories he supposed. Even worse were the good memories, of which there were so many more.

"Nah, Cap'n, got my sights set on the shore," he replied, turning to the kindly old man with a morose grin. "School starts in a few weeks and I don't want to put all your training to waste. Besides, I hear Veil is beautiful this time of year." Keeping the tone of the conversation light was getting hard. He ached for the soft sands of Veil's beach, stark white like a fresh snow, if only to avoid forcing what should have been his normally happy-go-lucky demeanor. The captain laughed and gave him a rough pat on the back, the thick, calloused hands stinging along his tensed shoulder blades.

"Well of course, but the extra hand would be nice. Fending off Grimm is so much easier with a skilled crew and you're shaping up to be one helluva Huntsman," the captain remarked.

He just bit his lip in response before turning to face the old man.

"I'm not a Huntsman yet, that's why I'm going to Beacon you nut," he said, sticking his tongue out at the old saltblood. With a careful glide he slid over to one of the tables of the hold.

Perched on top were two matching handguns, each a deep navy blue in color, the pigment being dyed directly into the metal. Near the front of the guns, under the barrels, were secondary grips, each a dull grey striped piece of rubber. The grip of each gun connected to two long blades that protruded at the bottom of the firearms.

The first on each was a long forward spike that had a gentle curve upwards, ending in a well sharpened tip. The second was shorter and pushed backwards towards whoever would hold the weapon. The weapon's magazines jutted out of the sides and curved down to the bottom of the main grips where they were locked in place by a simple clipping system. Each magazine would wrap over the wielder's wrist should they be held properly.

He picked them each up, inspecting the weapons and making sure once more that they were proper mirrors of each other. He flexed his muscles and guided the left blade through the air at an imaginary opponent. The weapon felt light and responsive in his hands. Checking once more to make sure his fifty round magazines were properly stored on his belt he attached each weapon to his hip.

"So you made your choice eh? I think those fit you quite well, though your craftsmanship while making them seems a little shoddy," the old man teased, flicking one of the weapons with his middle finger.

"Yeah, yeah, like you were any better when you were my age," he chuckled, taking the tease in good fun. The captain gave a low, deep chortle.

"Please, I didn't even get to build my first weapon till _after_ I left Beacon. Until then I just had to use a rock tied to a stick," the shipmaster replied with a whimsical glaze in his eye. He gave the man a glare.

"Are you sure you didn't use marbles; it'd explain why you have so few of them now," he shot back, a genuine grin growing itself on his face. An amused puff of air left the large man's mouth.

"I still have quite a few, thank you very much. Watch how cheeky you get. I taught at Beacon when Glinda Goodwitch was still a regular teacher. She'd wash out your mouth with soap for saying something like that," the tone of the old man's voice fell to a pseudo-serious low. "God know what she'd do now that she's assistant dean."

The teen rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue once more, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

"Don't worry; I don't plan on pissing _everybody _at Beacon off… just about ninety percent of them," he replied, returning to packing a few more small effects. The moment went by in a comfortable silence between the two, though he was left with the impression the captain had much more to say. Finally zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder he returned his attention to the old man. "Okay, what is it?"

The captain gave a sideways glance to make sure they were alone before approaching revealing a small rectangular box he had hidden behind his back.

"She told me to hold onto this since you had a habit of prying through her things looking for something to snack on…" the captain said, opening the lid.

Inside the dark mahogany was a velvet cushion, upon which rested too well polished and sharpened punching daggers. Both seemed quite old, yet meticulously maintained.

"She paid me for the set… she wanted to surprise you when you both finally shoved off to Beacon." The captain handed the box to the teen, a twitch in his frazzled brow. "I didn't feel right keeping the money after what happened though, so it's in there, under the pillow, along with the proper maintenance tools and some handwritten instructions."

The teen just gaped at the elegant blades.

"These are the ones…"

"The ones that I used before I became a ship captain, during my Huntsman days," the captain finished, pushing the lid closed in the teen's arms. "I've not needed them for some time, and though they're not your preferred weapons as is obvious," the man gave a wave to the two guns at the teen's hips. "They are still the weapons I trained you with, so I thought it would be a reminder of the good times on _The Trodden_. Consider it a gift… from both of us."

The teen just gave a soft smile and let a few tears drip out of his eyes. Not too many though, just enough to let the nauseous warmth fade out of his chest. Temperatures settling back in to a comfortable balmy throb, he cradled the box against his chest.

"I'll never let go of it," he spoke, a tight conviction in his voice, a determined smile stretching his lips. There was a jostle throughout the hold, the ship around them shifting to a stop. Voices yelled throughout the vessel declaring that they've made land. The teen smiled. "Looks like this is my stop," he remarked, putting the blades into his pack. He looked the captain in the eye and held out his hand. "It's been an honor captain."

The old man took the teens hand and brought the boy in close for a tight embrace. The teen relaxed into the hold, knowing he'd not see his friend for quite some time. It was then that he spoke once more, "I'll come back. I promise I'll join your crew and be your official Huntsman." The old man gave one reassuringly tight squeeze before letting go; letting his hands rest on the teen's shoulders. The heavy palms stuck to the white overcoat with sweat and sea grime.

"And _The Trodden_'ll be here when you're ready to fill that role. Tell the professors at Beacon I said hello. Unless it's Port. Tell him he still owes me that Boarbatusk dinner," the large man said with a smirk. The teen replicated it.

"Will do. It's been a blast Captain," he said one last time, patting the old man on the shoulder as he approached the door. He was only stopped as the captain spoke one last time. The teen looked over his shoulder at the coot.

"You know Sven, Remedy was a fantastic girl. You two made a great team… you think you can get along without her?"

"Not like I really have much choice. Besides, she wouldn't want me to dwell and I'd really rather not either," Sven responded. He lifted one of his weapons with a symbolic gesture. "Neither of us saw the 'point' in moping," he chuckled. The captain gave the boy an amused smile and shook his head at the terrible pun. Sven just smiled and walked out of the cabin, climbing the holds to the top deck of the ship.

Before him, across the sapphire and turquoise waters was a city of bleached white stone and dark onyx brick. Every shade of sunset and midnight mingled and comingled among the city's many buildings, giving a beautiful, discolored look to the town.

Veil.

"Right, class starts in a few weeks…" Sven spoke to himself, hopping down from the deck onto the sunny sands. He closed his eyes and took in a whiff of the fresh sea-salt air. When his eyes opened the were filled with awe, giddiness and a slight point of apprehension. And then a somewhat sobering question came to his mind.

_Where am I going to live till then?_

It hit him like a ton of bricks that he'd forgotten to book lodging. And here he was lugging around almost every single item and effect he owned… without a place to put them.

"Well… shit."

* * *

_Author's Note: So I hope that helps a little in looking into Sven's psyche. I wanted to keep it vague for several reasons, the least of which is easing the audience into the character. Not giving him a name right off the bat kinda forces you to pay more attention to what he does and says and then gives you a stronger connection. It might not work, it might turn people away, but it's an exploration in style that I enjoy playing with._

_So, yes, if MW99 has a particularly interesting chapter I'll try to match it with the angle from Sven's POV. Provided I'm motivated enough actually write :P_

_So please, go and have a good morning, day, afternoon or night! Enjoy the time you have and the people you have around for as long as you can! You never know when you could lose someone precious to you! :)_


	2. Low Rider

_Author's Note: Well, MegaWalrus finally updated, so I'm matching that with this hastily written piece of fun. I feel it's fine to read stand alone, but you'll get MUCH more out of it if you go read the second chapter of "Tomorrow will be Kinder" (Riding High) by Megawalrus99._

_Also, it's come to my attention another one the characters featured in his story has her own prequel, called "The Crimson Ranger" by Kisdota-The Freak Gamer. Go give it a read! :D_

* * *

The Silver Flicker – Chapter 2

_Low Rider_

Admittedly, the airship was pretty huge, intimidatingly so actually. Never one for air travel Sven merely stared at the ship with a mild confusion mixed with some long stewing irritation.

He had gotten the time of the school's opening ceremony _wrong_.

_"Hey, it _could_ have been worse! A week early is better than a week late…"_ the calmest part of his mind noted.

Absently his feet carried him up the walkway into the ship's main compartment, bag of effects slung loosely around his shoulders. A very, _very_ heavy bag.

_"That fact does nothing for my bones. Have you ever climbed a sheer cliff face before?!"_ the more irate side of his brain fired back.

_"Yes, actually I have, since I'm _YOU_… And no, before you retort, I'll agree that it wasn't the most… pleasant activity to partake in. Concede with me that at least getting _down_ was easier?"_ His rational mind pleaded desperately.

_"Because gravity was doing most of the work and all I had to do was keep the brakes going on my Slides,"_ he returned, tapping his feet together self-consciously.

The boots weren't anything fancy; if anything the shiny greaves coating his shins were more of an eye catcher than anything else. They were, however, specially designed with a small pocket of powder and crystal force dust in the heel, enough to permit him a special 'slide' when he used his aura in tandem with the propellant. It was lightyears faster than running and could even latch him onto walls and ceilings, provided he had enough inertia to move himself along the surfaces.

A jostle knocked him out of his thought as the airship began to rise, the majority of its occupants milling around near the windows or taking seats.

Sven stroked the red ponytail that looped around his neck. "Well, may as well chill…" he muttered to himself. There were few seats that hadn't been occupied, and the ones that were left already had occupants next to them. Feeling the weight of his very (_VERY_) heavy bag, Sven opted for the closest option and approached a boy with blindingly gold hair and jade eyes. A brown trench adorned the youth's frame and a loosely tied yellow scarf wrapped his neck. With the utmost courtesy Sven bent down to address his fellow student.

" 'scuse me, but is this seat taken?" he asked, trying carefully to mask his accent. Admittedly, the country Sven came from didn't have _too_ different of a language, hell it was practically indistinguishable up until things got specific. Still, it left a bad taste in Sven's mouth when people in other countries ostracized him purely for his jargon or slurs. He had much _better_ reason for them not to like him and he didn't find his home one of them.

Much to his relief the boy didn't make any remark of it, simply turning and giving a curt smile.

"No, go ahead, sit down," the teen grinned. With a noticeable lack of care Sven hefted his bag to the floor. Relieved he sat down, sighing while giving his hand to the boy next to him.

"Thanks. Name's Sven Heior," the red head grinned in return. The boy grasped his hand and gave a firm shake before letting go.

"I'm Amber Kemp," the teen remarked.

"_Hmm… Amber… Amber… More people… guess I need to work on nicknames again… I've gotten rusty, but I'll think of something…"_ Sven thought to himself. Amber continued, motioning to another boy around the same age, one with brown hair and a white hoodie.

"And the sleeping guy is Lucas," he said. Sven couldn't help but notice the pen mark goatee the sleeping student was wearing, most likely drawn by his conscious counterpart.

"_Well, there's one down the drain: Sleeping Fugly…"_

"Why did you draw some facial hair on him?" Sven asked, hoping for a more creative answer. He was disappointed.

"Why not?" Amber answered with a shrug and a smirk. Sven swished his lips to the side.

"Fair enough," Sven said. Still though, he couldn't help but feel this hadn't been taken to its natural extreme like it should have. "Do you still have the pen?"

"Yeah, why?" Amber inquired, his eyes shifting to Sven's with a piqued curiosity.

"Give it here, I've got something to add," Sven said, his gaze locking onto his sleeping quarry. With the simple affirmation of 'Go nuts,' Amber handed over the sharpie. Sven gave a curt, "Thanks" before beginning his work. Very carefully, meticulous as a sculptor, Sven added the one missing piece of any and all face art: the unibrow.

"Cute," Amber said as Sven finished his 'improvements' on his sleeping cooed. A voice echoed through the cabin just as Sven capped the marker and handed it back to Amber.

"**Hello and Welcome to Beacon.**"

A chill went down Sven's spine.

He never saw the woman, never heard her name. All he knew was the arriving at Beacon a week early by way of cliff climbing didn't exactly look right. When he had reached the top of the cliff he approached one of the walls isolating Beacon from the wilderness when a loud, rather irritated voice swiftly explained that classes wouldn't begin for another week and that all students who had not applied in time wishing to enter would be punished severely.

That was when Sven had been launched off the cliff by a concussive blast and forced to improvise a descent with his Sliders.

This was the very same voice.

A librarian figure with carefully knotted blond hair appeared in a hologram. He heard some commotion come from Amber and Lucas besides him, but he was transfixed now on the person he assumed had been his would-be killer.

"**My name is Glynda Goodwitch. You are among a privileged few who have received the honor of being selected to attend this prestigious academy. Our world is experiencing an incredible time of peace, and as future Huntsmen and Huntresses, it is your duty to uphold it,**" the hologram said, taking a small breath before continuing. "**You have demonstrated the courage needed for such a task, and now, it is our turn to provide you with the knowledge and the training to protect our world.**"

The hologram faded and the cabin fell into quiet 'oohs' and 'ahhs' as the windows at the front of the ship became bloated with the view of Beacon Academy. The two people next to him kept arguing, though he had the mind to give Amber a pat across the chest.

"Amber, check this out!" Sven said as he gazed for himself.

He hadn't managed to really see the school from his trek up the cliff, thanks in no small part to the walls around the facility denying him entry. With an amused smile he had to say that the view _was_ pretty amazing. Long, wide tresses arched in such a gentle angle surrounded the front courtyard of the facility, capturing a beautiful stone statue at its heart. Tall, winding spires stretched into the heavens, rivulets of light pouring in-between the knotting and twisting towers.

If he could say anything about it, with the way the light bounded and reflected off of the building's surface, the school definitely had a good reason for its name. And it was all painted or finished in a pastel white and grey finish, something that Sven wholeheartedly approved of. It was simply an astonishing view.

'Breathtaking' is how Remedy would have worded it. He scowled and gave a quite, yet displeased huff. He opened his mind and let the pain float away.

His momentary depression passed he decided to enjoy the short remainder of the cruise watching the approaching school in all of its glory.

* * *

Sleeping wasn't necessarily an issue for Sven, especially in public places considering he'd holed up in plenty of general holds over his time at seas. No, the real problem had to do with the myriad of people resting their heads in the room. Too many of them were being awfully bothersome.

Admittedly, he had no one to blame but himself for sitting next to the rowdy pair of Amber and Lucas, though it was not just them. Further down the hall was a foursome of girls who were getting into a pretty nasty catfight. Entertaining as it may have been, it was seriously detracting from his sleep schedule.

"_Strange_," Sven thought, leaning his head against the wall. "_People always seem to give sailors a bad rep for being rowdy bastards, yet just about every single one I've met knows what 'lights out' means._"

He sighed in defeat. With the night's chill piercing the room he wrapped himself tighter in his own slivery trench. The white-grey material meshed around him and provided a moderate amount of warmth compared to the white undershirt and boxers that he was left in when he slept. He set the alarm on his music player, began an album of calming tunes and plugged his headphones into his ears in the attempt to drown out the noise.

To his pleasure it worked and he was well on his way to the next day's morning.

* * *

"_Well… this is not what I expected…_" Sven sneered, looking out across the full, green canopy of trees. It was initiation time. He, along with several other initiates, were standing at the ready on some… interesting metal pads.

"Now, I'm sure many of you have heard rumors about the assignment of teams. Well, allow us to put an end to your confusion. Each of you will be teammates… today."

The voice came from Glinda Goodwitch, who was very much there in the flesh to announce the rules of the initiation. Much like the night before during the (lackluster) opening ceremony, the school's head Professor, Ozpin, was in attendance, letting the students have some words of 'encouragement' before the test began.

Sven didn't necessarily take a liking to either of them (especially Glinda), but he had to give it to them that they remained very professional, if not a little… _cold_.

"These teammates will be with you for the rest of your time here at Beacon," Ozpin continued Goodwitch's thought. "So it is in your best interest to be paired with someone with whom you can work well. With that being said, the first person you make eye contact with after landing will be your partner for the next four years," he took a slight breath before continuing his speech. "After you've partnered up, make your way to the northern end of the forest. You will meet opposition along the way. Do not hesitate to destroy anything in your path, or you will die. You will be monitored and graded for the duration of your initiation. But our instructors will not intervene."

"Well that's very kind of them," Sven joked dryly, mostly towards the readied Amber and Lucas.

"You will find an abandoned temple at the end of the path containing several relics. Each pair must choose one and return to the top of the cliff. You will guard that item, as well as your standing, and we will grade you appropriately. Are there any questions?" Professor Ozpin asked. "No? Good. Now take your positions."

Sven spread his legs wide, preparing his body for the force that he inevitably knew was coming. He let his aura flow freely, focusing it in his Sliders for the most part, but also allowing a moderate amount of hoary energy to pool around his body in a protective shield. Drawing his two weapons, the Faux Claws, he briefly pondered who he'd manage to team up with.

Amber was alright, a goof kinda like himself, and Sleeping Fugly was… okay. It then dawned on him that Ozpin and Goodwitch must've gone through something like this before to get _their _status as huntsman and huntress, respectively.

"_Speaking of which, if there's a Glinda Goodwitch, do you think her sister would be Blinda Badwitc-?"_ he was cut off mid-sentence as his pad heaved forward, launching him into the wilderness.

* * *

_Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed it! For the record, no, I have no idea where MW99 will be taking his story. I'm just here to kind of fill in what my character is thinking and/or doing in each particular circumstance he creates! So your guess is as good as mine as to what's going to happen!_

_Until next time! Servus! :D_


End file.
